Excitement on the side

Let the sun shine in…

Posted on April 23, 2012 | 8 comments

My brother went to the Naval Academy. He was 19. I was 23 when he began his Plebe Summer. We walked through campus on Induction Day, we stood in lines. We waited and we hugged him a lot. The whole time I kept thinking how in the hell do you make a decision so permanent? This one day… you are saying “today I will begin a career in the Navy that may be life long…” and that blew my mind.

I kept wondering when he would start to look like a midshipman. Would it be over Christmas when I saw him next? I can tell you when it was. The moment was the same for every one of the boys and girls that became men and women that day. It was when they got their hair cut.

Scott looked like a baby and a grown up all at once. He’d had his ears lowered. It was summer and his tan didn’t quite go all the way up to his hair line anymore. All these young kids filed in to this hall and we saw them spilling out the other side with this “oh shit, I’ve really done it now” face. Young men and women that had a plan. And a new do.

I didn’t have my ears lowered today. Nor did I sign up with the United States Navy. But I did have one of those “Sign me up and cut it off” moments.

I got a Mom haircut. There’s no turning back. I’m giving Lucy twenty good years and then I am retiring. Heh. We’ll see how well that works out for me, huh?

Lucy seems slightly less suspicious than Em. Em said "Hmm... it's creepy, I want my Mom back." Here's hoping Mike is more open to change.

8 Comments

Posted in Nonsense, Parenting

Tagged hair, motherhood, mothering, nonsense, parenthood, usna

Aside

Em,

I wrote your sister because she is three months old today. And in my ongoing quest to keep things equal I thought I’d write you, too. I’m not sure if you keep score, but I do in my head. I probably won’t always, but for now, I want so badly to be certain that you never feel like you are getting the shaft.

You saw me point a camera at you and promptly began your best impersonation of a teenager.

Today I thought I’d level with you about one thing. Sometimes I have no idea what I am doing. You started playing soccer this month. I don’t think I even know all the rules of soccer. And I am sure I don’t really know how to be a “soccer mom.” I know the last thing in the world I would have expected was to see you run off the field during your first scrimmage in tears. I know I am supposed to talk to you about being a member of a team and give you supportive speeches about never giving up. So that’s what I did. But I have no idea how to keep my body from wanting to run on the field and put my arms around you.

So, yesterday when I told you that I was sure that you were going to have a great game and that you had nothing to be afraid of… I wasn’t being totally truthful. I wasn’t sure that you might not burst in to tears and really hate it when the game started. And I really had no idea how I was going to make it better. I know your soccer league doesn’t keep score, but last night when you looked at me from the field and you gave me a thumbs up and you smiled you earned BIG points with me. Because my post-partum heart just couldn’t handle you hurting. So, thanks for being such a champ, kiddo.

And your bike? Oh man… your bike. Seeing you ride away, watching you start to wobble and then right yourself… it is such a metaphor for parenting. I let you go, watch you wobble along, while I holler “Keep peddling!!! Keep peddling!!” all the while delighting in your fearlessness and wishing you would slow down.

You’re growing up so fast. I brought you with me last weekend when I went to get my nails done and we laughed and for a moment it was like being with one of my girlfriends. I brought you with me when I went to get my IUD inserted and you held Lucy and swayed back and forth and chatted with me about birth control so I could bite my lip with my hands free. The nurse asked me if I wanted her to hold Lucy for me and you piped up “We’re good. I got her.” And you did.

Just when I think you are just too big too fast you make me smile and remind me what a funny little girl you really are. You were big and brave at your soccer game. You did not cry. But you did stop and shove your entire arm down your shorts about fifty times in the course of ten minutes of play. My girl needs her shirt tucked in. Perfectly tucked in. At all times.

I’d laugh about this but I could have predicted it. Apple does not fall far from the tree and all that. Last week, in preparation for your game, I did not google the rules of soccer. I started practicing cute and clever ways to get your bangs out of your face during the game. We might not always know exactly what we’re doing, kiddo. But, dammit, we are gonna look fierce while we try.

I love you, Emily June. I look at your face and in you I see myself looking back. And I love you like crazy. It reminds me that I’m not so bad myself.

I am totally still chucking at my title... Mamma Mia, a soccer mom joke, get it? Heh.

7 Comments

Posted on April 20, 2012

Three Months!!!

Posted on April 20, 2012 | 1 comment

Dear Lucy,

This morning you slept in. I woke up when your dad was getting ready for work. He has been going in early so that he can spend even more time with us in the evening. I got up with your sister and helped her get ready for school. She climbed in bed to give you a kiss goodbye.

I was feeling overwhelmed yesterday so I took advantage of you sleeping in and cranked out a speed clean. A little before 8 I climbed back in bed with you.

I tried to just let you sleep. Really, I did. I just gave you a couple of kisses. Maybe three. And you wiggled a bit. Like you do in the morning.

And you opened your eyes. And you smiled. Like you do every day.

Everything is new to you. Every day a new experience. Each time you open your eyes and you see my face you smile. I pretend it is because you picked me. And that you are happy because while you’re ready for a day filled with new you are over the moon that the day will feature that same mom from yesterday.

I know that of all the babies that you might have been you are Lucy Quinn because I wanted you. Just exactly the way you are. I picked you.

And this morning when you opened your eyes and you grinned ear to ear, your eyes shining bright, I think maybe just maybe you picked me, too.

1 Comment

Posted in Family, Parenting

Tagged birthday, Lucy, motherhood, Parenting

TiVo

Posted on April 16, 2012 | 2 comments

I am perfectly well aware that having a TiVo box is not too unlike having an ancient flip phone. No one that has ever noticed my old TiVo box has failed to inform me that the cable company can record tv shows on my cable box for me. I know this. But Time Warner’s cable box doesn’t know me. Not like my TiVo box. And not too sound like an old lady, but I really love my remote. And I totally know how to use it.

TiVo records anything with Sarah Silverman. Because I used to keep the episodes of Crank Yankers when she co-starred. And anything with Peanuts or Charlie Brown in the title. So I never miss a holiday Snoopy special. (And once a month it records the episode of Frasier where Silverman plays Maris’ sister and at least that often the episode of Will & Grace titled “Big Gay Pumpkin, Charlie Brown.” TiVo records new shows about restaurants because in my ten year relationship with TiVo I have watched nearly every cooking show premier. TiVo records garbage reality tv that I can’t even bear to watch just because I have never missed an episode of The Real World.

We go way back. Me and the TiVo. And when you have a long relationship it is hard to pick your favorite thing. TiVo knows my viewing habits. And it doesn’t judge. But my all time favorite thing is the Season Pass.

Yesterday I deleted a Season Pass. Em doesn’t watch tv during the school week. But Saturday mornings are for cartoons. I jumped for joy when I noted that we had unwatched episodes of Dora. Dora the Explorer wasn’t getting the love she used to to from Emily and I wasn’t sorry to let her go.

But Word Girl? Becky Botsford and Dr Two-Brains. I’ll miss them. Hell, I even have a soft spot for Chuck the Evil Sandwich Making Guy. Word Girl isn’t getting as much play as The Wizards of Waverly Place and the rest of the teeny bopper garbage. None of it holds a candle to Saved by the Bell. I hope My So Called Life is still streaming on Netflix when Em gets old enough to watch it.

It’s funny the things that draw attention to the passage of time. The training wheels last week were so obvious. But deleting Word Girl … if it weren’t for Scooby Doo I am not sure there’d be a single animated series on the Saturday morning lineup at our place.

My big girl just keeps getting bigger. We have another loose tooth. Last night I made her climb up in my lap in the rocking chair. She still fits, those long legs hanging over the side. I’m not sure I could have handled it if her feet touched the ground.

I love that you could easily select Ru Paul's Drag race when you were trying to watch That Metal Show. And if you want to come over and watch Garfield Gets Real you'd better hurry.

2 Comments

Posted in Parenting

Tagged comedy, crank yankers, tv, wizards of waverly place

Easy like Sunday Morning

Posted on April 15, 2012 | 5 comments

Sunday morning in my rocking chair. Baby girl has fallen back asleep on my chest. Big girl is outside playing and I can hear her laughing. My sweet husband has fallen back to sleep after his morning snuggles with his little lady.

There is nowhere I’d rather be. Absolutely nowhere.

Sometimes I write because I want to remember a specific moment. And sometimes I sit down to write because I feel so much that I know something real might come out if I let it. Right now? Tapping letters on my phone, looking around me to find a picture to describe this moment. There is nothing. No words, no image to capture a moment Iike this.

That’s all I’ve got this morning. Me. And Lucy. And the quiet of the morning broken up by the laughter of my first favorite girl. This is it. If this is as good as it gets I’ll take it.

5 Comments

Posted in Family, Parenting

Tagged Emily, home, Love, Lucy, motherhood, Parenting, Sunday

Training Wheels

Posted on April 14, 2012 | 7 comments

This week Emily took off her training wheels.

We took them off once before. And we gave it a good shot. She just wasn’t ready. So we put them back on and we figured they would come off again when it was time . Predictably, “ready” came as soon as Kellan, her buddy across the street, took off his training wheels and rode across his yard.

We had plans to start working on it this weekend. But she decided she simply could not wait that long. Wednesday after school we headed to a local park. MQD had plans to help Em with her bike while I got a little exercise with Lucy in her stroller. I took off down the walking path leaving them to adjust her helmet. As I rounded the corner some ten minutes later and they came back in to my sight I could see that there had not exactly been a lot of progress. She was standing next to her bike. Her posture alone told me she was crying.

She hadn’t even fallen. I’d warned her. You will fall. And you will get up and get back on your bike. The last time we had tried she had fallen and had still not been so upset so I wondered as I got closer just what exactly was under her skin.

The stakes were higher this time. And she seemed paralyzed. “What are you afraid of,” I asked her. “Falling. Breaking my arm. Going to the hospital. I am so, so afraid….”

And I saw myself in her face.

MQD and I switched places. He pushed Lucy around the track in her stroller for a bit and in less than twenty minutes Em was riding.

To be both brave and afraid all at the same time. I feel this all of the time. And my heart broke for her. She wanted to ride. She was ready. But her fear kept her from peddling fast enough to keep from tipping over.

For so many years I thought what I wanted was a partner that would hold me as I wept. “I’m scared,” I would cry. “You can do it,” they would say as they swept my hair from my face tenderly.

Turns out that isn’t what I needed at all. A little bit of MQD’s tough love has gone a long way. I am brave more often than I am scared.

“You can do it,” I said. “Get back on your bike.” And she rode. Crying. Three feet at a time because she kept stopping to wail about how terribly afraid she was. She is afterall my daughter.

And soon the three feet became ten feet. And the firm hold on her bicycle seat became a less firm grip under her arm. And then I had one of those delicious parenting moments where I was running along side her as she rode her bike. She was yelling “don’t let go, don’t let go” and I was yelling back (having already let go) “you’re doing it, you’re doing it.”

I watched her ride down that path and tears streamed down my face. She was free. A bike with no training wheels. Equal parts brave and afraid.

In our wedding vows MQD and I quoted part of Tom Robbins’ Still Life with Woodpecker to one another “my love for you has no strings attached. I love you for free.”

Riding a bike is just like that. I live without training wheels now. And I am equal parts brave and afraid.

7 Comments

Posted in Parenting

Tagged Emily, Tom Robbins, training wheels

If I was in an 80s Hair Band…

Posted on April 13, 2012 | 5 comments

I have missed my calling. If only I was in an 80s Hair band then I would write songs about folding cloth napkins. Hiding Under the Napkins would be the first hit off my album titled “Stay At Home Rock.” Lucy would be my number one fan.

(Sadly I just realized that my fantastic audio file will not appear on a mobile device. If “audio” appears as a link, have a listen. If not? Just trust me, it’s catchy. And in case you’re wondering “where is Lucy?” the answer is simple. “She’s hiding under the napkins!!!”)

5 Comments

Posted in Nonsense, Parenting

Tagged Lucy, Post by Voice, songs

Speaking of bed buddies….

Posted on April 10, 2012 | 2 comments

I am a compulsive bed maker. I don’t like sleeping in an unmade bed and I don’t like getting dressed in a state of mess. (Keep your comments to yourself all those that may have seen my bedroom before I was about twenty years old.)

I walk in the bedroom and think what the hell? My room is a mess! I know I made the bed. And from behind the pile of blankets I hear the sigh. A contented sleeping dog. With his ass on our pillows. Good thing I love him. Can’t say I have ever had another roommate that I’d let get away with this….

2 Comments

Posted in Nonsense

Tagged co-sleeping, Fisher

Bed Buddies

Posted on April 10, 2012 | 4 comments

I am a snuggler. My big girl is a bed hog and my husband likes his space. My dog will gladly let me sleep all wrapped up in him but he sheds like… well, a dog and he does not always smell fabulous. For the better part of the last thirty-five years I have fallen asleep with my Snoopy in my arms.

My little girl is currently taking the place of my Snoopy.

Co-sleeping is an integral part of my parenting philosophy. It is also an excellent way to go to bed at 8:15 for the first year of your child’s life. I rock in my chair and hold my sweet girl and eventually I say that I am going to “put her to bed.” Those unaccustomed to my techniques might wrongfully assume that I will come back out of my bedroom at some point. It’s not likely. Snuggled with my girl, lights out, pajamas on… no promise of a glass of wine, a movie, an adult conversation can keep my eyes open long. And even if I can stay awake until she is peacefully slumbering there is always the risk that she will wake and I’ll be gone. And then we will have to start all over with our bedtime song and dance.

I don’t know how many times I have written of my love for Snoopy. I love him. I do. And last night I loved him even more. It seems I can sneak out of bed if Snoopy hops in my place, nestled against Lucy he keeps her warm and smells like Mom.

4 Comments

Posted in Attachment Parenting, Parenting

Tagged attachment parenting, co-sleeping, Lucy, Snoopy

Anchors Aweigh

Posted on April 5, 2012 | 2 comments

Pop-Pop's memorial card and two of the cartridges fired at his service

Last summer I wrote of a trip to Disney World and a visit to see my grandparents. I never imagined it would be the last time I saw my grandfather. But I am hardwired for optimism. Two days after I posted about our visit my grandfather passed away.

For the first time in twenty years our family gathered. My grandmother, her children, their spouses and their children. We were mothers, fathers, sisters,brothers, aunts, uncles, cousins and nieces. We were a family, gathered at Arlington National Cemetery for his memorial. That old expression “there wasn’t a dry eye in the house…” it applies.

The young sailors folding the flag, some of them didn’t look to be a day over 18. The reading of my grandfather’s obituary, the three-volley salute, the bugler playing Taps, the recitation of Anchors Aweigh including the lines from the second verse “Until we meet once more, Here’s wishing you a happy voyage home!” it’s as if they won’t let you leave until you shed a tear.

My grandfather wasn’t one to go for all that folderal. But he’d have gotten a kick out of one thing. “Go Navy, Beat Army!” the officer said in closing. And four generations smiled through their tears.